Thankfully
by Teyerin
Summary: A trio of vignettes about what some people are thankful for.
1. Chapter 1

A collection of one-shots, relatively plotless.

As is well known, own nothing pertaining to Wolf's realm.

Just Thinking….

Joseph Armando Fontana studied the item in his hands.

He was thinking, just thinking. That day Edward Green - Eddie in Joe's mind - had taken a bullet in the chest, Joe wished he'd been there between bullet and partner. That day Eddie was shot, Joe wished he'd get to the shooter first.

He was thinking, just thinking. McCoy could work his side of the street so long as the Irishman knew enough to leave him alone on his side. For Joe thought trivial things such as 'Miranda' and other 'afforded rights' would not, should not, could not apply to the weasel responsible for bringing the young man down. For Joe thought trivial things such as 'procedure' and 'regulation' and 'law' deserved to be 'forgotten' for a moment or two.

He was thinking, just thinking. Watching his partner's mother hold the hand lacking all feeling as machines fought for his life, Joe was thankful to not ever having become a parent. Watching his partner's supervisor calmly catch the Irish intruder up to speed, Joe was thankful to not ever having lost a partner, or having to shoulder the responsibility Van Buren did now.

He was thinking, just thinking. Maybe it was time to consider turning in badge and gun. If Eddie died, Joe would have his revenge, which in turn would demand resignation and punishment, none of which would even compare to-. No, Eddie was still breathing, still fighting. Joe would do the same.

He was thinking, just thinking. Maybe it was time to prepare for retirement, recalling Briscoe's reasoning for his departure. Leave before you've no life left to care about.

He was thinking, just thinking. There were many things to consider, there were many things to curse, many things to be thankful for. The day was not yet over, so it could end either way.


	2. Chapter 2

Looking Back…

"I see a mother, an officer, a Black woman."

"You know what he sees? Nothing."

Anita Van Buren looked out the window, the reflection against the evening sky forcing her to look back and recall those words exchanged between her and Ed Green.

'Open season on cops' indeed, she thought; recalling that Lennie Briscoe had made a similar comment to McCoy after Melnick's shooting.

There were many things to be thankful for, she reminded the reflection in the window. She had her husband, her boys, and her mama sustaining her. She had her faith, her ethics, and her beliefs guiding her. She had Briscoe, Green, even McCoy supporting her.

There were many things she was thankful for not having seen, too. Looking into the darkness of the alley below, she decided it was best to discard that collection and return to the present and the 'present' before her.

Stefan's laughter anchored her as Rick reached for something beyond his stretch. Anita watched as Don deftly retrieved that which the boys needed, then watched as he approached her.

"You're done in here, sweetheart," he said wrapping his arms about her before pulling her away from the sink, the window, the darkness.

"Come sit by the fireplace," he said, "where it's nice and warm."

Anita smiled. The 'fireplace' was the boys' contribution to sprucing up the place, red and brown paper framing the heater from a safe distance.

Looking back, there were many things to be thankful for, she reminded herself, allowing herself to be drawn towards the light.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the Company

He opened the door, letting out the breath he held every step he took in crossing the room.

She was there, just as she was before and yet…

"Come in," he said closing the door behind her before helping her out of her jacket. "I trust the commute was decent?"

"No complaints," she said. "Which is a good thing considering…" She left the sentence unfinished as she took the small bag and set it on the table.

He watched as she surveyed the room, taking in details that had to have been far removed from memory for time's sake, he thought. Then again, he was certain that very few things had changed since the last time she had been there.

"I know, I know, I should do something about 'downsizing," he said with a smile. "What can I say? I earned my 'packrat' nickname for a reason."

She simply smiled. "Did you leave me anything to do or did you decide to do everything yourself?"

It didn't escape his notice that she omitted 'again' or 'as usual.' What could he say to that? 'Um, no, I left you the things you enjoyed doing even though it's been ages since we've even done this sort of thing together.'

He wasn't about to confess how every year he bought the ingredients for her favorite dessert, waiting against all hope, but doing it just the same. He wasn't about to confess how every year he'd put those ingredients together, creating the dish to take into work the next day - everyone convinced that it was 'just something he did.'

He would confess to having a surprise for her. "Well, you're the expert on making that one dish," he said nodding his head in the direction of his excuse of a kitchen. While it suited him just fine all these years alone, it seemed… He couldn't say just yet.

It was almost like old times as he watched her pull her hair back in a ponytail before rolling up her sleeves, before putting the apron on - the same one she'd worn long ago, not saying she'd say so if she'd noticed - before scrubbing her hands and getting down to work.

He refilled his cup of coffee and watched her periodically as he finished the other side dishes. It was this moment that would be the second best moment of the day for him, he decided.

The meal prepared, the two of them sat at the small table, with its wobbly leaf extended, and enjoyed the meager feast.

The conversations went about from weather, sports, work, to finally more personal things.

"What did you mean earlier, when you said what you did about the commute?" he asked. "Is that your way of saying I should learn to 'venture' out some?"

She smiled. "I know how much you _love_ to drive, let alone take 'troublesome trips.' No, what I meant was… I know this was a long time in coming, one of those 'too little too-."

"No," he said quicker than he meant to. "This…this isn't a 'small' thing-."

"Too late," she finished. She took a deep breath then let it out slowly.

He watched as he saw a myriad of 'ages' pass over her face, wondering what level of worrying was appropriate.

"I accepted a job offer far from here." She paused before looking him in the eye. "I leave next week."

He gave her a faint smile. "I was wondering which of us in the family would be the more 'restless one.' I'm happy for you. When do you start?"

"Next month. So…this first Thanksgiving together is really-."

"Really something worth treasuring," he said holding up his water glass to her as a toast, "something to be thankful indeed."

Savoring the remains of the day with her, this was the best moment, he thought, giving a small prayer of thanks for having the opportunity in the first place.


End file.
